


Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned

by LemonyButters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Catholicism, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Roman Catholicism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonyButters/pseuds/LemonyButters
Summary: Ian was adopted into a very religious home. He always thought homosexuality was a sin until he met Mickey.





	Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned

_Forgive me father for I have sinned.._

Ian runs his tongue against his trembling lips. He probes adjacent to the natatorium of people who incorporate snakes in the sockets that their eyes were supposed to be. Their tongues were disadvantageous; speaking only sickening words about him and to everyone except him.

The bells above this religious establishment hit against each other—three bangs usually symbolize three o’clock. Ding-a-ling, it goes, unfastening the doors that nuns, or in his term; sisters, hold their rulers upon. It was an annoying sound. Deafening to the human ears. Sometimes he would see people clasping their gloves around their faces. Ding-a-ling, it ran through thin walls, transparent to any tangible object. Ding-a-ling. Louder than the music playing in the choir. It was the only thing that Ian heard other than his heartbeat. The lump in his throat didn’t relocate, Ian was still having trouble breathing.

_I have loved a boy—a boy father…But he had not._

It was upon the mushroom stairs that Ian saw the justification behind this chaotic event. The brunette man leans against the pillars of the aged building with a smile so bright on his face. His curls cast a shadow on his defined cheeks and he peers—with eyes as cold as winter—underneath his nose.

_I’m attracted to it..to him…I like it..help me father…_

The brunette had a crew behind him. A crew that Ian had seen many times—he has the scars that proved it. The crew stand up predominately as Ian puts his feet in front of the other and intake air through his nose every once in a while. He remembers their names as if he was being tested on it. Julian, Trevor, Jonathan and lastly, with curls slipping down his forehead; Matthew.

_Help me…_

Ian stops stubby on his heels, hesitates as he made eye contact with Matthew. He felt the chills he had on his spine increase gradually and the hairs that were sleeping just moments ago, started to dance. He drifts pass the brunette, nails digging deeply into his palms. They sunk so low, if he did withdrew it; blood will start to drip out. The crew didn’t approach him, surprisingly, making this even harder for Ian. Why were they so still? Why weren’t they coming up to him? Why weren’t they _curing_ him?

_Oh father, how can I be save….how must I be save…_

At the end of the hallway was his locker. Ian directs his eyes to it and gave it his only attention. He didn’t noticed the white and black uniforms that these keen students wear. He didn’t noticed the sisters that hush their students in the hallways. He didn’t noticed the fire that builds in his back from curious eyes. He didn’t noticed the way his hands twitches at his side.

All he noticed was the locker, his red painted locker.

_I don’t want to be me…I don’t want to be me..._

_**Faggot** _

It was faint, the words that was sprayed on his property. The letters were withering away as if they were never there but that doesn’t mean they were less significant. A word like that will always be eye-catching, eye-grabbing, particularly in a Christian school. Ian scans the area before turning back to his locker and blinking a few times. He felt like to puke. He felt like to run away and cry, cry and cry and cry.

 _Father cleared his throat once Ian was finished. The man slid a booklet through a crack between the door and the wall. He opened his mouth, deep in this nighty chambers. “Say twenty Hail Marys and make sure you dip your hand in the fountain. God is willing to cure anyone if you open up your heart to him.” Ian glances at the manual, the pages were scabrous_ and _dilapidated, cutting his skin when he turns to the next. It was a flyer for an institution for sick boys. Sick boys like Ian._

 

_*_

 

Ianwas lingering on the curve of the sidewalk for Julia. His ear buds in and his eyes bore into to the _Night_ by Elie Wiesel. It was one of the book he needs to read for English; the journey through the Holocaust as a young Jew. Ian never could imagine how far a human would go to kill someone based on their religion—or who they were borned as. Whenever he skims across the people who have died in this mass genocide, his eyes sting. Imagine; out of all those people who could have been doctors, astronauts or anything else but never got the chance. 

A Honda Civic stops in front of him.

The woman in it had blond hair and bright blue eyes with shades around her strands. “Good afternoon Julia.” Ian greeted, entering the passenger seat. Julia growls, her lips coated with red.

“Get in the car quicker will you, I don’t have all day.”

Julia was his adopted mom—they told him when he was eight that he was not related to him. They let him keep his original parents last name, so instead of Williams he has Gallagher. He wonders how the Gallaghers were like. He wonders which side he has got his ginger hair from? Which side he got his nose from? Which side he got his eyes from...etc.

Whenever he asks his adopted parents about his real ones, all he got was that they were drug dealers and that Ian should be grateful that they took him off the streets. That’s the thing about them; they want him to be grateful. Every single time they eat together, Ian has to go to both parents and say an extensive ass speech about how grateful he is. Like it was Thanksgiving or some shit. And when they sign his trip forms, he have to pray to God about them. When he uses the showers, he has to be grateful. It’s like they treat him as if he was a person that had witness death or something.

The drive was inaudible as always. Julia never had any attraction to Ian. As long as they don’t have any calls from the priest about him, they don’t get involve with him. Not that he minds and Ian hardly gets into trouble anyways. What he is concerned about, though, is them finding out about his social life and the things people at school named him as. He knew for sure they would send him off to boarding school or to that camp the priest gave him. 

  
They pulled up into the compatible bank at the end of the street. It was never crowded, which was amusing—it was the only bank on the north side.

Julia puts on her shades before looking at Ian. “Stay in here. I need to get some money for rent.”

Ian nods, not inducing the conversation further. Julia gets out and ran to the door; her skirt blowing up to the sky. Ian starts to tap his fingers on the glass for a couple of minutes before running a hand over his face and looking at the cross that sits in the middle of them. 

The three-dimensional representation of Jesus’ body, referred to as corpus, goggles at the redhead in his white polo and black pants with the logos of the school on both articles of clothing. Ian’s tongue travels along his plump lips, feeling the cross expand in length and consuming the entire vehicle. The cross was a principal symbol in Christianity and was mostly the demonstration of the crucifix. Jesus died for the sins of men, the same men that betrayed him when he needed them the most. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge to know the story behind the crucifixion, every Christian knows it, and Ian just thinks that the tale was probably the most troubling one to him.

The two men in front of the car provoked the guy to upsurge from his unconsciousness. Ian turns and see a man with a blue beanie and very stern icy eyes. A moustache chips at the side of his chin and he had some bangs peaking under his cap. The other person had a little more fat to his body and was an abundant amount taller. They seem to be in a heated argument making Ian gazes back into the car.

Then, in the nick of time, the man in the blue beanie punches the elder one to the ground before looking around and walking away. He rubs his chin, slightly, crossing the road despite the stop light being a few meters in his viewpoint. Ian watches the stranger’s back disappeared over the horizontal, shrinking by the pass of seconds and milking with the buildings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I’m sorry if I ever offend anyone in the story. I know that not all Christian homes are like this and that some schools/families are accepted with the change. From where I grew up, the town was  
> very much this and I guess I wanted to interpret how a homosexual would feel in this environment.


End file.
